


kink_bingo trilogy

by kurokkii (stupidqpid)



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Anal Fisting, Dirty Talk, M/M, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-02
Updated: 2010-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:22:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29585103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stupidqpid/pseuds/kurokkii
Summary: on their bus to get to the next venue, Pete teases Patrick
Relationships: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz





	1. The one where Pete has a dirty mouth

**Author's Note:**

> [i'm simply archiving my works - typos,mistakes,shitty contents etc. included]

Pete yanks the soundproof headphones off Patrick’s head, who is working on his computer in the bus back lounge.   
  
“What the fuck, dude?!” Patrick shouts enraged, shooting a death glare at Pete.   
  
The bassist is topless (how strange), the tight jeans squeeze his thighs and don’t hide the bulge on his crotch. Patrick’s eyes wander there against his own better judgment, it can’t be helped.   
  
“What- What do you want, Pete?” he asks, a hint of hesitation at first, soon replaced by resignation towards the other man’s shenanigans and drama queen behavior and gestures.   
  
Pete’s eyes are flaming, his hands are twitching with the urge to touch. He quickly runs his tongue on his dry lips before kissing Patrick hungrily, almost making the singer’s precious laptop fall.   
  
It catches Patrick by surprise, but it doesn’t stop him from kissing Pete back equally fiercely – he only mentally prays Andy and Joe won’t catch the two of them like that: their relationship is still a secret even for their best friends and band mates.   
  
Pete undoes Patrick’s hoodie’s zip with shaky hands, the belt is next along with the zip of the jeans. The older male attacks Patrick’s neck, licking and sucking with the intention of leaving a nasty hickey. One of his hands lingers dangerously above the singer’s crotch.   
  
“The things I want to do to you, Trickster,” Pete whispers huskily, teasing a lobe with the tip of his tongue. Patrick shivers under the hot breath and the still unspoken promises of hot moments.   
  
“I want you under me, naked, only your hat as piece of clothes. I want to make my way on your milky skin with light bites, to savor you. I’ll lick your nipples for hours, I want to feel them harden against my tongue,” he says, emphasizing his intentions with soft caresses under Patrick’s t-shirt, the other hand teasingly close to his crotch without touching it. The singer feels himself blushing fiercely already, his member half hard till a moment ago now tensing his boxers to reach Pete’s hand.   
  
“Then I think I’ll take your lovely cock in my hand, stroking it roughly. I want to see you writhe under my touch when I’ll stop mere moments before you come because I’m thirsty of you, I want to taste you: I’ll wrap my lips around you and tease you with my tongue, licking aaall the way. I’ll let you fuck my mouth till my jaw is completely slack and you’ve drilled a hole in the back of my throat. I’ll make your toes curl and make you scream when you come. I don’t want to waste a drop of it, I’ll milk you until you’re completely worn off.”   
  
The horny bassist snakes a hand inside Patrick’s boxers and grabs his cock to give more meaning to his own words, making the other man inhale sharply at the feeling, a soft and shaky moan escaping his lips.   
  
“I already finger fucked myself to be ready to get you up my ass, this way we won’t waste more time before I’ll be able to ride you, like the fierce stallion you are. You won’t be able to resist my tight ass, because you know how much you enjoy fucking me..”   
  
Pete stops touching Patrick but rests his hands on the other’s stomach and leg, watching the blonde man shiver and arch his back in a silent beg for more contact. With a smirk, he stands up and returns to the front of the bus.   
  
Patrick is dumbfounded. And fucking aroused.   
  
“Not fair, Pete!” he shouts enraged, holding his pants with a hand while getting up to close the door and take care of his hard-on.


	2. The one where Patrick is in charge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> on their bus to get to the next venue, Patrick wants revenge

Still on the road to reach another packed venue, Patrick wants revenge.   
Revenge for what, you may ask. Well, it involves Pete, of course: Pete and his big mouth that he used only to tease Patrick, talking and talking dirty and dirtier, without using it for a better purpose –blowing Patrick, that is. Patrick had to use his own hand, after it, and now wants his bassist, slash fuck buddy, slash secret boyfriend, to pay for it.   
Taking advantage of a stop on the road to let everybody stretch a bit, Patrick halts Pete right before he steps off the bus.   
“I need to talk to you,” the ginger says, filling those simple words with a seductive tone that also means _‘don’t you dare to argue with me’_. Pete must feel the undertone and finds himself half hard already, because he loves when Patrick acts quite like the ‘bad cop’.   
Following the singer in the back lounge, Pete doesn’t take his eyes off the other’s ass – so round, so perfect! He wants to bang it right now –, but quickly moves his gaze up when Patrick suddenly turns and looks at Pete, looks at him with his flaming green eyes.   
“Y-Yes?” Pete gulps. Patrick glares, stepping towards him a bit.   
“You’ve been very mean earlier, Peter,” Patrick’s voice is slow as honey, also as thick as it, but not quite as sweet, “You turned me on and left me like that. Kneel down,” he orders, stepping forward to lock the door.   
Pete accomplishes, never taking his eyes off Patrick.   
“Well, well. Quoting you, I can’t resist your tight ass, am I right?” the singer states, Pete nods slowly, “You’ve been a very bad boy, though, teasing me without giving me a treat, and I don’t think I want to fuck you,” he finally declares.   
Pete widens his eyes in horror at such an outlook; he had to expect a similar threaten but…he actually didn’t.   
Patrick gingerly rubs a foot against Pete’s hardening cock, stares into his eyes while the bassist is humping his leg, silently begging for more.   
“Oh, no, dear sir, you won’t get it so easily,” the singer assures in a mischievous tone, stopping to move his foot.   
“P-Please, Patrick, I…” Pete looks up at the younger man, holding onto his leg to help himself get more friction.   
Patrick grabs Pete’s jaw to look more intensely in his eyes and bends to lay a hand on Pete’s belt more easily.   
“You what?” he asks slyly, working the belt and the fly open, “What do you want, _Peter_?”   
Pete shivers: that’s the power of Patrick’s voice on him, and he loves how the singer makes his inherited name (what a curse, he’s the third Peter Wentz in a row) sound hot. He could actually come only listening to Patrick’s voice, which is always heavenly to listen to, but it’s in moments like this that is at its best, so attractively dangerous and so dangerously attractive.   
Patrick kneels to get more at level with Pete and wraps his hand around the bassist’s stiff cock (he isn’t wearing any underwear, the fucker), leaning closer to him to whisper huskily, “What do you want.”   
He doesn’t move his hand and it’s driving Pete crazy, enough to start humping his hand now.   
“Please, Patrick, please,” he pants, his face extremely close to Patrick’s, but he doesn’t dare to fill the already small gap with a kiss because that little bitch would stop any contact just to taunt Pete.   
Patrick’s grin brushes against Pete’s cheek before he starts kissing Pete’s strong jaw line and at the same time pumping his penis.   
“Oh, oh yes, Patrick, ah,” Pete is thrusting his hips with Patrick’s hand erratic rhythm, moaning like a cheap whore –Patrick’s voice brings him on edge, okay?   
The singer stops.   
“Nnnngh, no, don’t stop, Trickster, please, oh, please,” Pete whines, grabbing Patrick’s wrist to make him jerk him off again.   
Patrick smiles deviously   
“I-I need…please, Patrick, I need more,” he begs, turning his face to be able to kiss the ginger properly.   
“Better wait for hotel night, the others may arrive soon and I don’t want to scare them,” Patrick suggests, giving a last artful tug that makes Pete come in his jeans, and kisses Pete fondly.

===

“Thank fuck,” Andy and Joe exhale from the bunk area.


	3. The one where they need a hand

The bus tires screech at halt. Pete, Patrick, Joe, Andy, Diaz, Chris and the others get off the bus, starting to gather their few luggage for a hotel night.  
The hall is bright and there’s still quite some people around despite the late hour. A smiling receptionist welcomes them and hands their card-keys.  
At the third floor, the group splits in their rooms: singles for each Fall Out Boy, doubles for their technicians and staff people.  
Patrick is chilling on the bed idly zapping from a TV channel to another, wrapped in the cozy hotel’s bathrobe after a rejuvenating shower, when someone knocks on the door. He barely has the time to open it that whoever was outside has pushed his way in.  
“What the…Oh,” Patrick starts shouting angry, subconsciously wrapping the bathrobe tighter, but rolls his eyes when he sees it’s _just Pete._  
Pete beams mischievously at him, shaking the bag he brought like it’s some great prize or like they’re going to play Bingo. Patrick eyes it and Pete warily, pretty sure to know what’s going to happen.  
“I’m tired, Pete,” he finally says, plopping on an armchair. It’s a half lie.  
Pete sashays his way to the armchair, dropping the bag on the floor with a low thud before sitting on Patrick’s lap, draping his arms around the singer’s neck just to make a scene.  
He bats his eyelashes, “Please, Trickster, you promised…You don’t want that your little Petey won’t trust you anymore…”  
Patrick snorts at Pete’s lame attempt to make his voice younger and innocent (the latter word can’t fit in any sentence that includes the name ‘Pete Wentz’ or anything regarding his persona).  
“Someone has been a bad boy, though” he states, somehow going along with this small role play.  
“Someone has been a bad boy,” Pete confirms, “but he then pleased you and now he’s here to receive something in return,” he adds, staring directly in Patrick’s eyes.  
The ginger moves his gaze from Pete’s eyes to his mouth, absentmindedly stroking his leg.  
“Since this boy has started behaving better, I may reward him,” Patrick concedes, running his hand under Pete’s t-shirt and teasing a nipple.  
Pete sighs fondly and attacks Patrick’s lips, lazily making out and undressing. With a lapful of Pete, Patrick steadies himself against the armchair to stand up and, once the older man has securely wrapped his legs around Patrick’s waist, make their way to the bed. The singer releases Pete on the bed and with expert hands he finishes undresses him, receiving caresses and strokes under the bathrobe from a sneaky hand that belongs to an obnoxious bassist.  
Patrick leaves a now naked Pete to retrieve the bag abandoned on the floor and turns to see the bassist’s spread open legs, a hand stroking his member lazily and, once Patrick decides to look away, also Pete’s trademark smirk reserved to these moments.  
Patrick sits at the foot of the bed, distractedly playing with the bag’s fastenings.  
“Do you think the others will hear us?” he asks a bit worriedly: he suspects the others have an idea of what’s going on between him and Pete, but he doesn’t feel ready to confirm their relationship yet.  
Pete rolls his eyes, “There’s my room between yours and Joe’s, we’re kinda far for them to hear anything we’re gonna do,” he reassures with a wink.  
“Good,” Patrick grins, stripping off the bathrobe and joining Pete on the bed. He opens the bag and scatters the contents on the comforter: a box of condoms packed with a bottle of lube “because you never know how many times we’ll make it tonight” and a soft tie “to fasten me at the headboard”. Patrick gulps when he sees the lube, because he knows he’ll need a fuckton lot to do what has been buzzing in his mind all day long.  
“Pete,” he calls with a tiny voice, “I thought we could…ehm…try something?”  
The older man widens his eyes in delight already, whatever pervy idea they’re going to enact.  
“Anything, Trickster!”  
“I-I wanted to…uh…to…to fist you,” Patrick finally blurts out, flushing madly and not looking at Pete in the eyes.  
Pete is at a loss of word, but not in a bad way: he never thought Patrick could be so kinky.  
“Okay,” he accepts smiling sweetly at Patrick, who’s evidently feeling uncomfortable.  
The singer snaps his head back at him, “You sure?” he asks, worry and relief mixed in two simple words. Pete nods and lies more comfortably on the bed, hands already on the headboard to be tied up. Patrick hesitantly fastens the tie around Pete’s wrists, puts a pillow under his bottom and spreads his legs more apart.  
“Promise you’ll tell me if it hurts,” Patrick pleads while uncapping the lube.  
“Will do,” Pete assures, and shudders at the feeling of a finger, cold and slippery with lube, teasing his butt hole. Patrick inhales deeply to relax and stop his shaking hands.  
When the first finger gets in, it’s just a funny sensation of having something up his ass, but it’s nothing compared to Patrick’s cock: he can easily take another couple of finger, knowing it’ll burn some more in any case. He starts rocking against Patrick’s fingers, trying to get them more in depth and to stretch the tight ring of muscles.  
“Oh shit,” he breathes out when a finger brushes against his prostate.  
Patrick stops, “Did I hurt--"  
“No you didn’t, Patrick, continue. More,” Pete pants  
“I’m now going to put another finger in,” Patrick announces, squirting more lube on his already half-in hand and the pinkie. He holds his breath while the fourth finger enters not without difficulty; Pete cringes and unconsciously tugs his fastened wrists, to release the tension.  
“Pete,” Patrick calls hesitantly. Pete hums he’s listening, opening his eyes he didn’t notice he has closed.  
“I have only my thumb left. You sure you can take it?” the singer asks softly.  
Pete breathes shakily and nods, closing his eyes again.  
Patrick fumbles with only a hand to open the lube and pour more on his thumb, on his knuckles, up to his wrist. Seeing Pete so submitted, seeing how much he trusts Patrick, seeing how much he put himself in his hands (literally), makes the younger male painfully hard.  
Helping himself with the free hand, Patrick squeezes the thumb together with the already inserted fingers, soothing Pete and telling him how good he is.  
“Relax, Pete, good…Now open some more, let me in, baby.”  
…And finally the whole hand is in, slowly slowly moving back and forth thanks to the abundance of lube.  
Patrick stares in shock at his hand disappeared into Pete’s body. He gradually tries to uncurl his fingers, hitting Pete’s sweet post again: every sensation is at its highest levels, in Pete’s body; his softened cock hardens again and is already leaking precome, it takes only a couple of squeezes to make him come fast and hard on Patrick’s stomach.  
“Fuck! Oh god,” Pete moans shakily, violently arching his back for the intense orgasm.  
Patrick carefully slides his hand out: he can still feel the heat that surrounded his hand inside Pete’s body.  
Pete breathes heavily while wearing the orgasm off, relaxing completely only when Patrick unties him before jerking himself off, coming quickly as well.  
“Thank you, Pete. I love you,” Patrick whispers when he cuddles against Pete’s side, his head upon Pete’s heaving chest.  
“You’re welcome, Lunchbox,” Pete replies tiredly, a satisfied smile stretching his lips.  
  
===  
  
Joe and Andy exchange a knowing smile when Pete and Patrick join them for breakfast, the bassist trying to hide the fact that he’s visibly limping (he does not wince when he sits down, no sir, except when he actually does).


End file.
